


Manhandled

by phantomdoodler



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Confessions, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 14:49:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1748468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomdoodler/pseuds/phantomdoodler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inigo wants to be manhandled.  Gerome insists that it's not as great as he's making it out to be.  50% fluff.  50% smut.  100% awkward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mishandled

“I want to be manhandled!”

 

The day had started out bad enough, but it just kept getting worse.  First, Inigo had dragged him out to “hit on ladies.”  _Again_.  Then there were the women.  There was the grabbing.  There was the poking and prodding and pinching. And now that they were finally making the trek back to camp after the terrible ordeal, there was this.

 

“This makes four times I’ve taken you out and had the ladies completely ignore me,” Inigo continued.  “How does this keep happening?  Huh?!”

 

“I seriously doubt that this… this harassment is what you want out of your flirtatious endeavors.”  Gerome grimaced, mind returning to the onslaught of female affection he had only barely escaped earlier that day.

 

“Are you kidding?  I’d kill for that kind of popularity!  You don’t know how good you’ve got it.”

 

“I am quite aware of my situation,” Gerome snapped. Taking a deep breath, he added more calmly, “I assure you that it is not as pleasant as you seem to imagine.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.”  Inigo rolled his eyes.  “I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need you softening the blow.”

 

“That is not…”  Gerome came to a stop, pine needles crunching beneath his boots.

 

Following suit, Inigo turned around to face him.

 

“I am not saying this to coddle you.”

 

Inigo responded with a half-hearted laugh. “Really, it’s fine. I don’t blame you for being popular, Gerome.  I mean, you’re taller than me, you’re more muscular, your fashion’s a mess but somehow you even look good in that ridiculous masked hero get-up.  I get why women like you.  Why you haven’t taken any of them up on their advances is what I don’t understand.  But come on. If all that attention was really as bad as you keep saying it is, you wouldn’t keep coming with me.”

 

Gerome bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. Where should he even start? He couldn’t deny that he could feel his face heating up (thank the gods for his mask).  Compliments were a dime a dozen, or completely free when it came to the girls in town, but for Inigo, the vain little cad, of all people to freely praise his appearance, his physique?  More than that, though, how could he have noticed his disinterest in women’s attention and still not realize? How could he question why he still agreed to tag along every time he invited him on another ill-fated escapade?  It was all just so irritating.  It made him confused.  It made him embarrassed.  It made him frustrated. 

 

It made him angry. 

 

“You want to be manhandled?”  Gerome stepped forward, aggressively enough to make Inigo back up.  “You want to grabbed?  And groped? And toyed with as if you have no will of your own?” 

 

He wasn’t sure when, but he had grabbed Inigo by the collar.  He knew he was cracking, he could hear his voice growing loud and unsteady.  But he didn’t care.  Shoving Inigo against a tree, he continued. 

 

“You want every fiber of your being tugged at and toyed with?  Your hair?” Grabbing a handful of hair, he wrenched Inigo’s head back for effect.  “Your clothing?”  He slipped his other had down from the other man’s collar to his shirtfront, ripping it open.  “Your body? Do you _like_ that?!” 

 

And then…he stopped.

 

Breathing heavily, Gerome stepped back, withdrawing his hands, fingers shaking.  Inigo stood lax, disheveled, and violated in front of him.  Because of him. 

 

“I-Inigo.  I apologize.  I…”

 

“I do,” Inigo said with a slight rasp to his voice.

 

“Wh…  Pardon?”  Gerome took deep breaths, trying to steady himself.

 

Inigo caught him by the sleeve, pulling him close. So close he could hear him pant as he spoke.    “I do want that.  …I like that.”

 

Gerome’s mind was reeling.  What did he just say?  What was he talking about?  What was even happening?  Damn, he was so close that he could smell that ridiculous flowery cologne.  It was making him batty.  That must have been it.  Inigo’s ridiculous cologne and Inigo’s ridiculous impeccably styled hair and Inigo’s ridiculous perfect porcelain collarbone and…what was he thinking about again?

 

“Gerome?”  As soon as Inigo’s whisper reached his ears, it was as if his myriad buzzing thoughts had been swatted right out of the air.  There were no more questions, no more doubts, no more inhibitions.  Quickly and roughly, he pressed his lips against the other’s. 

 

Drawing away slowly, he searched Inigo’s face – for surprise, for regret, for disgust.  What he found was a flushed, breathless smile. 

 

“Yeah,” Inigo smirked.  “Like that.” 

 

Gerome responded with another kiss. And then another. And another.  The sensation of soft, smooth lips against his wind-chapped skin sent sparks all the way from his mouth to his feet and back again. Grabbing Inigo’s chin, he deepened the kiss, tasting his lips, his teeth, his tongue. 

 

Eventually, his hands drifted towards Inigo’s waist, but they didn’t stay there long.  Soon Inigo started pulling at his gauntlets and working his gloves down his arms. 

 

“Wh- what are you…?” Gerome heard himself pant. Without waiting for an answer, he went to work undoing his bracers himself.  He had always taken pride in how aerodynamic and functional his armor was, but suddenly all the straps and buckles and ties felt unbearably constricting.  Had it always been this difficult to get these things off?  Since when had it felt like he was wearing way too much clothing?

 

Finally the damned gloves dropped to the ground at his feet, leaving his hands bare and not quite sure of where to go. That was easily fixed when Inigo grabbed them and placed them on his own chest, still bare from earlier.  

 

“Inigo…  I… You…”  Putting things into words was never one of Gerome’s strong points, but for some reason it was even harder than usual. The heat of Inigo’s skin beneath his fingertips, the rising and falling of his chest against his palms, the subtle glisten of his lips – it was all more that slightly distracting. Pulling his hands away, he swallowed hard and took a deep breath.  “I need to say something.” 

 

“Why?”  Inigo looked up quickly, apprehension showing on his face.  “What’s wrong?  Why are you stopping?”  

 

“I want to know why you want to…why you want to do this.”  

 

Inigo laughed, averting his gaze.  “Isn’t it obvious?  I mean, you get it.  You’re a man, too.” 

 

Gerome followed his glance downwards. “Oh.  I-  Um…” How long had he been like that? Not that it wasn’t to be expected, but he hadn’t particularly been looking at, well, _that_.  Clearing his throat, he started again.  “So your motivation is, er, physical.” 

 

“Hey, it’s not like I can help it!” Inigo pulled the hem of his shirt down, trying in vain to cover himself. 

 

“And you merely wish for someone to grant you physical gratification?” 

 

“Well, sure.  Isn’t that what most people want?”

 

Gerome’s chest hurt.  His stomach hurt.  He felt as if he wanted to disappear, further and further behind his mask until no one could see him.  Since that was impossible, he did the next best thing.  He turned around and started to walk away. 

 

“Gerome?” Inigo called after him.  “Gerome!  Wait!” 

 

Not pausing to look back, he quickened his pace. He could feel a lump rising in his throat.  Not here. Not now.  Just make it back to camp and pretend none of this ever happened. 

 

“Gerome!”  Inigo had caught up and grabbed him by the cape.   “Why…?” 

 

He wanted to come up with an excuse, anything to get him to let him go.  Anything to let him run away.  Before he could think of anything, though, he felt Inigo’s grip tighten. 

 

“What’s wrong with me?”  Inigo’s voice was different somehow. Hollow.  Devoid of his usual hubris.  Even his laugh sounded thin and empty. “Don’t I at least deserve a reason?  Headache? Dentist appointment? Betrothed to a wealthy diplomat? I’ve heard them all, so…at least give me that.” 

 

Gerome stared ahead straight ahead, unmoving. There wasn’t gong to be an easy way out of this.  “Inigo, I… I do not share your desire for fleeting encounters or meaningless trysts.  I cannot in good conscious merely… _play_ with you.  Not when… Not when I truly care for you.”

 

If Gerome wanted to disappear before, he wanted to completely erase any trace of ever having existed now. This was exactly the kind of attachment he had wanted to avoid when he made it to the future.  Yet here he was, laying bare all his carefully guarded emotions – and to the resident Casanova wannabe, no less.

 

After far too many moments of suffocating silence, Inigo finally responded.  “I don’t want some anonymous rendezvous.  I mean, I thought I did.  At first I was jealous of you for getting so much attention.  For being able to get any girl in the bar. But…”  Letting his hand fall from Gerome’s cape, he continued. “But I was sort of jealous of the girls, too.  They’re all over you within a minute of meeting you.  And here I am – your friend – and I can’t even…” Trailing off, he took a deep breath and laughed.  “And I can’t even figure out that you have the same feelings for me. 

 

Finally turning around, Gerome stood speechless. Inigo hurriedly wiped at his eyes, laughing. 

 

“So you…?” Gerome managed to stammer.

 

Inigo nodded, taking his hand in his own and raising it to his lips.  “I want each moment I spend with you to be neither meaningless nor fleeting.”

 

For what must have been the hundredth time that day, Gerome thanked the gods for his mask.  He could only hope that it hid the blush he could feel fast spreading across his entire face. 

 

“Inigo.”  He gulped.

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“That was horrendous.” 

 

“Shut up!” Inigo laughed, punching him in the shoulder.

 

“…”

 

“….”

  
“……”

 

“……”

 

“………”

 

“………” 

 

“So…” Inigo started hesitantly.  “Do you want to… y’know… go back to what we were doing before, or…?” 

 

“Pardon?  Oh…”  Gerome cleared his throat in an attempt to regain some semblance of composure. “The sun is already setting. It will be dark by the time we get back at this rate.  It would be best to return as soon as possible.” 

 

“Oh.”  Inigo’s shoulders slumped a bit.  “Right.  Of course.”

 

“My tent is on the outskirts of camp,” Gerome said in a way he hoped came out as nonchalantly as it had sounded in his head. “You could…stop by on the way back.  Perhaps. If you’d like to, that is.”

 

Inigo looked up, mouth slightly agape. “I-…  Yeah!  I mean…  If that’s okay.”

 

Gerome could have sworn that his heart had hiccupped. He suddenly felt warm again; but not the oppressive heat of his clothing like earlier.  This was a less urgent sensation, a comfortable feeling emanating from his very core.  Quickly pushing such things to the back of his mind, he turned to retrieve his discarded gauntlets. 

 

“Well then.  Shall we be on our way?” 

 

Inigo grinned. 

 

They made record time walking back that night.


	2. Mishaps

Gerome ducked into his tent, Inigo close behind. He reached to light his lantern.

 

“Ah!  No, wait-”  Inigo quickly grabbed his hand, almost tripping over himself in the process.  “Uh, ha ha.  It’s just that I sort of promised Severa that I’d help with cleaning duty tonight, so if she sees that we’re back…”

 

“…Right.”  Gerome tried not to shudder at the thought of what might ensure if Severa of all people barged in at an inopportune moment. He already had enough trouble with his comrades in arms pestering him about his personal life as it was.

 

Pushing the notion from his head, he crossed the small space of his makeshift home and sat on his bed – or rather what passed as a bed while on the march.  Really, it was no more than a few layers of rugs and blankets topped off with a few miscellaneous pillows and cushions, but it was still more comfortable than sleeping on a flying wyvern.  Not that he had done that before.  On multiple occasions.  

 

Starting to undo his cuirass, he glanced over at Inigo, who remained rooted in the doorway.  “Would you like to take off your shoes?”

 

“Huh?  Oh. Yeah.  Thanks.”  Despite saying this, he didn’t move from his spot.

 

Gerome finished removing his cuirass and started on his boots.  After a few more moments of silence, he spoke up again.  “Sit down?”  He nodded towards the space beside him. 

 

Ingo hesitated, but finally walked over, sat down, and began unbuckling his greaves. 

 

Silence returned to the tent as they removed the rest of their gear.  Wearing nothing but normal clothing felt strange, almost indecent.  When was the last time Gerome had been in front of someone without a layer of metal separating them?  He’d been so adamant about keeping both a physical and emotional distance from people since he’d come to the future.  And now he was about to throw that all away.

 

“So…,” Inigo started, twisting a piece of his hair between his fingers.  “What do you wanna… _do?_ ”

 

That was a good question.  Gerome had played this scenario out in his head more times than he’d like to admit.  Now that it was actually happening, though, he found he had a bit less gumption than he did in his fantasies. 

 

“It is proper etiquette to let the guest choose,” he finally replied. 

 

“Hrmmm,” Inigo grumbled.  After some thought, a smile started spreading across his lips.  “Okay!”

 

“Well?  What is it, then?” 

 

“I want to take off your mask.”   


“What?  No!”  Gerome instinctively lifted his hand to his mask. 

 

“Well, you said it was up to me.”  Inigo pushed out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout.

 

“I-isn’t there anything you’d like to do that doesn’t involve that?!” 

 

“Really?”  Inigo smirked, throwing a sidelong glance at flustered man beside him. In a lower voice he continued, “You want to leave it on when we…?” 

 

“I…!”  Gerome gulped.  He could feel heat spread through his face immediately, as well as other areas that were not fit to mention in polite inner monologues.  He had a point.  “A…Alright.” 

 

“Alright?” 

 

Gerome nodded curtly, hoping to appear more certain than he felt. 

 

Fingers brushed against his ears, sending small tingles down his neck, as Inigo reached behind him to untie his mask. Gently and slowly, it was drawn away from his face.  Careful not to waver, he watched for the other’s reaction. 

 

“Damn,” Inigo whispered, causing Gerome to tense up momentarily.  After a moment, he smirked.  “I was hoping you wouldn’t be more attractive than me.” 

 

Gerome looked away, sorely aware that there was no longer anything concealing his burning cheeks but the thin darkness between them.

 

Inigo lightly touched his cheek, turning his face back towards him.  His fingers traced the contours of his eyebrows and cheekbones.  His eyes followed along, taking in these new details. Soon they were focusing on other details – eyes, nose, lips…

 

For a moment it felt as if they were about to kiss, but instead Inigo drew back and pulled his hands away.  After pausing to recompose himself, he spoke. “Your turn.” 

 

“Pardon?” 

 

“I picked something to do.  Now it’s your turn.”  He shrugged. 

 

“What are my choices?”

 

“Anything you want.” 

 

Well that backfired.  It looked like Gerome would have to take the initiative after all. It wasn’t as easy as it had been earlier.  No anger pushing him past his inhibitions, no direct invitation to commence the ravishing, no bare heaving chest sending his blood away from his head.  Actually, now that he thought of it…

 

“Are you certain?  Anything?” 

 

“Anything.” 

 

He gulped.  “Then I would like to…”  Averting his gaze, he lowered his voice.  “I would like to take off your shirt.”

 

Glancing back up, he found Inigo wide-eyed and significantly pinker than usual.

 

“O…okay,” he replied, sitting up straight.

 

Gerome took an unsteady breath.  He had to start with the vest.  With sweaty fingers, he took the first snap in his hand.  Undoing it, he moved on to the second.  Then the third and the forth.  Soon enough, Inigo was shrugging it off and pushing it aside.  One down, one to go. 

 

He could feel the warmth of the other’s chest as he started on the shirt buttons.  Slowly revealing softly defined muscles bit by bit, he worked his way down. Here and there his fingers brushed against soft skin.  By the time he had unbuttoned the last button, he could swear he could hear his own heartbeat.  Looking over his handiwork, he noticed how close they had gotten.  Inigo’s breath lingered on his neck. Glancing up to meet his gaze, he found the same expression he had seen early in the woods: heavily lidded eyes, flushed cheeks, ever so slightly parted lips. 

 

Worked up past the point of timidity, Gerome leaned in until their foreheads bumped.  Looking into Inigo’s eyes, he saw a glimmer of something he’d never seen before. Something vulnerable and unguarded, something free of posture or pretense.  It was gone in an instant, though, as Inigo closed his eyes and kissed him. 

 

As soon as they separated, Gerome decided that it hadn’t lasted nearly long enough.  So kissed him again.  And again. And again.  Slowly, tenderly, making each one a little longer, a little deeper.  Inigo’s fingers laced their way through his hair.

 

Sliding Inigo’s shirt off his shoulders, he ran his hands over his arms, his stomach, his chest.  Every inch was soft.  Warm.  Inviting.

 

Breaking for air, Inigo pushed away from him.

 

“Is something wrong?”

 

“I think it’s my turn now.”  Getting up on his knees, he swung a leg over Gerome so he was now hovering over his lap.  Leaning down to kiss him again, he started untying his ascot and opening his shirt.  He moved a lot quicker than Gerome had, and in a few moments those vestments were added to the pile of those that had come off before them. 

 

The sudden sensation of hands roaming over his chest and back sent shivers down Gerome’s spine.  Eventually they settled on either side of his neck as his own hands drifted to Inigo’s waist.  Lips touched lips and tongues touched tongues until it wasn’t really clear whose mouth was whose anymore. 

 

Suddenly, Inigo drew away only to push Gerome down on the makeshift bed.  Leaning over him, he whispered, “There are so many things I want to do to you right now.”

 

This was bad.  Really bad.  As if all the mere proximity wasn’t enough, Inigo’s weight had now shifted onto him, putting pressure on all the right places; or rather on the one right place. At this rate, he’d finish before the race had even begun.  He had to do something.  And soon.

 

Grabbing Inigo by the shoulders, Gerome flipped him onto his back, reversing their positions. 

 

“Gerome, what-?”

 

“How did you put it?  ‘I think it’s my turn now?’” 

 

“I wasn’t done ye- oh!  Ohh.”  He didn’t get a chance to finish. 

 

Gerome pressed a kiss against his neck. He liked the way Inigo groaned and squirmed beneath him, so he did it again.  Encouraged by the same response, he tried sucking at the skin a bit.  Carefully manicured nails pressing into his back confirmed that it was a good move. More confident now, he sucked a little harder and ran his tongue over the sensitive skin. 

 

“Ge-Gerome!”  Inigo’s knees squeezed at the other’s sides.  If his uneven breathing was any indication, he was liking what he was feeling.  Gerome continued working his neck while bringing a hand to his chest. Starting with light strokes, then progressing to firmer prodding and pinching, he tried to draw more and more moans from Inigo’s mouth.

 

“Oh!” Inigo gasped.  “Do that again.” 

 

Gerome returned his hand to his nipple and rubbed it between his fingers again. 

 

“Ah!”  Inigo’s skin twitched in response.  “Yeah.  That.”

 

Apparently he was particularly sensitive there. Getting an idea, Gerome let up on his neck and started slowly moving down his chest, leaving a trail of kisses as he went.  Cautiously, he ran his tongue over Inigo’s other nipple.  Sensing no resistance, he took it into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. 

 

Inigo let out a high-pitched squeak. Good.  It made Gerome a little more confident when someone else was more worked up than he was.  At least this way he could pretend he was still maintaining some semblance of composure despite his obviously heightening arousal.  He felt desperate to find release, but he was having too much fun getting Inigo riled up to stop now. 

 

“Gerome.  Gerooome,” Inigo pleaded, nearly whining.  “Gerome, please!” 

 

“Hm?”  Gerome looked up in feigned curiosity, still flicking his tongue about Inigo’s nipple. 

 

“Mmmh!”  Inigo stifled another groan.  “S-seriously, if you keep going…” 

 

Gerome got in a last lick before drawing himself back up so they were eye to eye.  “If I keep going, what?” 

 

“Wh-?  You know what I mean.”  He glanced away, already flush face darkening further. 

 

“Hmm?  Do I?  You might have to remind me.” 

 

“Shut up!”  Inigo laughed, pushing Gerome off of him so that he rolled to the side. 

 

Gerome chuckled quietly.  Inigo stared. 

 

“What is it?”  Gerome self-consciously brought a hand to his face.

 

“You laughed.  You don’t laugh.” 

 

“W-what?  Of course I laugh.” 

 

“No you don’t!”  Inigo propped himself on his elbow, a smug grin spreading across his face.  “Tall, dark, and handsome wyvern rider?  Mysterious, silent, brooding Gerome?  Laughing?!”

 

“Shut up.”  Gerome turned away, but even in the dark, he couldn’t hide his smile. 

 

“You laughed.”  Inigo reached out and turned his face back towards him so they were nose-to-nose.  “I made you laugh.”  There was a hint of pride in his smirk as he brought their lips together. 

 

In no time at all, hands trailed down from faces to shoulders to chests to waists.  Inigo pulled Gerome in even closer, so that there was no space left between them.  His hips jerked at the sudden contact, creating a welcome friction.  Inigo rolled his hips against him in response.

 

“Unh!”  Gerome grunted as they continued to rub against each other.  Despite the remaining clothing between them, he could feel could feel that Inigo was every bit as aroused as he was. “I-Inigo,” he gasped.

 

“Gerome, I wannatshor,” Inigo muttered incomprehensibly in his ear.  Slipping a finger beneath Gerome’s waistband, he spoke a little more clearly.  “Can I…?” 

 

“….You too,” Gerome panted.  Inigo nodded and they started clumsily trying to pull off each other’s pants, underwear, and socks all at once.  After a good bit of tangling and untangling, they finally lay completely bare before each other. 

 

Nervously looking each other over, Inigo spoke up first.  “Well…at least I beat you in one category.”  He laughed as Gerome shoved him, causing him to roll onto his back.  “I’m kidding!  I’m kidding!” 

 

“At least I don’t wax,” Gerome shot back.

 

“Hey!  Men’s Monthly lists smooth loins as the number one asset of today’s bachelor!”

 

Gerome stifled a snort.  Covering his mouth, he turned away, shoulders shaking.

 

“Oh, knock it off!”  Inigo gave him a kick.  “You know, you’re lucky you’re hot.” 

 

Gerome looked at him, still catching his breath. “I apologize, I…hah…haha!” He couldn’t quite make it through what he was trying to say without starting to crack up again.

 

“Oh, you are so going down.”  Inigo crawled on top of him and kissed him, cutting off his restrained laughter. 

 

Gerome could feel just how smooth those loins actually were as they pressed up against his thigh.  Maybe Men’s Monthly was onto something after all. Slowly, cautiously, he ran his hands down Inigo’s back.  Across shoulder blades and muscles and that little curve in his spine above his hips. Daring to go even lower, he noticed that his glutes were exceptionally toned.  That didn’t come from normal training, did it?  Whatever it was, he liked the results.

 

“Mmnh!”  Inigo rocked against him as he ran his hand up his thigh.  With gentle caresses, he drew closer and closer to where Gerome wanted to feel that touch the most.  First brushing his fingertips against the base of his prick, he then started to stroke it with slow, deliberate motions.

 

Gerome let out a low groan.  “Wait, there’s…over here…”  Words failing him, he reached around in the dark, causing some things to clatter and fall.  Finally he retrieved a small jar with a handwritten label that read “Anna’s 100% Healer-Certified Personal Lubricating Serum.” Not that Inigo needed to read that to know what it was.  Their resident merchant had been making quite the killing off the stuff, especially with all the young, sexually frustrated, time traveling recruits they’d been picking up. 

 

 

Inigo took the jar from him and twisted the lid. And twisted it again. Wiping his palms off on the blankets, he tried again, but to no avail. 

 

“If I may…”  Taking it back, Gerome tried to open it.  Still, the lid did not budge.  “Ugh.” 

 

“Lemme try again.”  Inigo hit it against the ground a few times, but it didn’t seem to loosen.  Giving up, he handed it back.

 

Gerome grabbed his axe from the floor. Holding the jar still in one hand, he used the pommel to hammer at the lid.  After a few whacks, it popped off. 

 

“Well, that works.”

 

“Finally,” Gerome sighed in frustration.

 

Inigo took some of the lubricant on his fingers and worked it around his hand, warming it up.  Laying down beside him, he leaned in for a kiss and whispered, “I’ll try to make it worth the wait.” 

 

Gerome shuddered as Inigo picked up where he left off. First just a light stroke here and there, then his thumb and forefinger wrapping around the base. All the while, he was leaving small pecks across his lips and neck. 

 

“Oh…Oh gods!”  Any heat that had been lost during their slight detour was soon rekindled as Gerome’s efforts to hold back his expletives faltered. “Ah!  Wait, wait, wait!” 

 

Gerome quickly dipped his fingers into the nearby jar. Reaching over hesitantly, he mirrored Inigo’s movements until their rhythms synced.  They tried take it slow, but the excitement of the situation got the better of them and they both found themselves at the brink in a shamefully short amount of time. 

 

Inigo used his free hand to pull Gerome in even closer. Rubbing their cocks together, he rocked his hips in time with his strokes.  “Gerome, I…!” 

 

Gerome cut him off before he could finish the thought. Rolling on top of him, he started thrusting against him.  Hard and fast, the pressure mounted and in an instant he had finished. Shifting his attention to Inigo, he gave him a few firm pumps until he was done too. 

 

Panting heavily, he rolled onto his back. After all the awkward embarrassments that it took to get to that point, it felt like the main event was over far too soon.  Not that it wasn’t good; he’d never felt anything that strongly on his own.  It just seemed a shame to end it so soon.

 

“Um…Gerome…”  

 

“Huh…?” 

 

“Do you have a, uh…?” 

 

“Oh…oh!”  Bolting upright, Gerome quickly located a clean handkerchief and handed it to him. “Sorry.  I…er…” 

 

“N-no, it’s fine!”  Inigo laughed nervously as he wiped his stomach off. Glancing around for a second, he eventually decided that tossing the handkerchief on the floor was the best option. 

 

Coming down from his carnal high, Gerome felt the ensuing silence press on him from all sides.  He suddenly felt very exposed.  Trying to be as nonchalant as he could under the circumstances, he pulled the topmost blanket over his lap. 

 

Apparently having the same idea, Inigo slipped under the other side and flopped on his back.  Gerome followed suit and stared at the cloth ceiling. Neither one of them said anything. What were you supposed to say? None of his fantasies had included an epilogue.  So he just kept staring. 

 

Eventually Inigo broke the silence. “Can I stay?” 

 

Gerome blinked, processing the sudden question. “Yes.  I mean…of course.” 

 

Inigo scooted closer and put his head on his shoulder. Gerome shifted to put his arm around him, letting him rest against his chest instead.  He still smelled like that over-the-top flowery cologne, but for some reason the scent seemed more pleasant now. 

 

“Gerome?” 

 

“Yes?”

 

Inigo idly twisted the fringe on the blanket between his fingers.  Glancing up, he looked Gerome in the eye.  After a moment, he smiled.  “Nothing.”

 

Watching Inigo fall asleep, Gerome thought about how destiny might just be able to change after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that turned out longer than I thought it would. 
> 
> Feedback appreciated! Let me know if anything in particular really worked for you or really didn't work for you. Be gentle! This is only my second fanfic.
> 
> I may or may not have a Part Three in mind....


End file.
